In Our Allotted Time
by Daemon hunter
Summary: Sometimes a hated enemy can become a friend through the most unusual of circumstances. Set in-game
1. At Arms Length

_In O__ur Allotted Time _

_Author Notes:_ As usual, I hereby disclaim any ownership of Final Fantasy XII or anything affiliated with it. This is a strictly non-profit making story. On a less serious note, if you can tell me which famous 18th century English woman of high society has an honorary mention in this chapter, then a winner is you.

Dedicated to Maudiebeans for her (blank) birthday. Hope you have a good one.

_Part 1 –__ At Arms Length_

_1.1 - Reunion_

It all turned out to be true, every single word.

At first, the notion had been inconceivable. After all, it was his brother who'd first mentioned the name Amalia to him. He knew the name immediately of course, a precaution agreed on in bygone days to protect the princess, but it had been impossible to tell if Gabranth (as his brother now styled himself) knew that. He remembered being unable to contain his shock, nor his own panicked thoughts, wondering if they'd tortured her true name out of her, or worse, already taken off her head.

Those worries hadn't been reduced when, upon his return to Rabanastre, Vossler had confirmed his brother's word, that Amalia had been captured by the Imperials. In fact, it had only made things worse. Before, he'd been able to pass the idea off as a lie designed to torment him. But Vossler would have no cause to play a part in such an elaborate deception. And there was no-one in Ivalice better qualified to know just how effective the Empire's torturers were.

Yet at the back of Basch's mind, ever the thought that it was all just a faerie story plagued him.

_They _had told him different tales. They'd told him in his cage that she'd killed herself, crooning it to him in the darkness like a horrid lullaby. For two years, he believed them and despaired, believing that she'd chosen to die by her own hand rather than fall into those of the Imperials. He felt responsible for the suicide, that his inability to defend king and country had driven her insane. That feeling of responsibility had kept him alive when he could've chosen to simply end his pain and die, and had also driven him across the Inner Naldoan, right onto the bridge of the Dreadnought Leviathan.

…Right before where she stood.

It took all of Basch's restraint to stay where he was, not to rush forward to see if this apparition before him was real or a falsity. She was like he remembered her, when they'd last seen each other on the balcony of the palace with all of Rabanastre's main army marshalled below. Yet at the same time, she seemed different, changed by the loss that she'd suffered and the life of a vagabond she'd no doubt been forced to lead. There was steel in her eyes that hadn't been there before. And surely a ghost wouldn't appear in contrast to a memory.

Though once again he was in bonds, he wanted to smile simply because she was alive. Within, his happiness consumed him, a pure joy manifested from the fact that not everyone from the old days was gone, that there was still someone left other than Vossler. That Dalmasca wasn't dead after all. And feeling like that, despite his handcuffs, or perhaps in spite of them, how could he not smile?

Hearing the footsteps of him and his fellow prisoners, she raised her head gracefully and in slow motion, as if she'd been daydreaming. Ignoring the others out of hand, her eyes rested solely on him. The blank confounded look he'd seen on several faces since his 'return to life' was in attendance, though her fury soon replaced it. But Basch couldn't help but whimsically wonder if he'd imagined the trace of doubt he thought he'd seen in her eyes.

As the moment seemed to lengthen, Basch's eyes absentmindedly wandered up and down the girl who would be queen. He swiftly took in her appearance, as if checking for inconsistencies that would betray an impostor. His gaze wandered respectfully quickly past her chest, down beyond her semi-exposed abdomen but stopped in shock at her upper legs.

Just what in the name of Galtea was she wearing?

Her bright pink skirt (if you could call it that) caught and held his attention. It was shockingly short, _far_ too short for royalty. Worse, the skirt was cut at the sides all the way to the belt, allowing Basch to catch a glimpse of thigh that almost made him blush. He sincerely hoped that she crossed her legs whenever she sat down.

Realizing he'd been staring for all of two seconds, Basch took his eyes away again, berating himself for something that a man of his station ought not to have been doing. Her eyes had never left his face and now Ashe was walking towards him. In less than five strides, she was almost in his face.

"Majesty…"

She slapped him hard enough to leave a mark.

"After all you've done. How dare you? You're supposed to be dead." For a moment, he wondered if she expected him to apologise for the oversight and return to his grave. In answer he simply bowed his head.

"_So are you, your Majesty__," _were the words he didn't dare say.

_1.2 – __Loyalty_

Even with all the best will in the world, she looked like someone had not just rained on her parade but urinated on it from on high before setting off a series of bombs beneath it. The others might've mistaken her for being sullen. Basch knew otherwise. No doubt she was distressed by her uncle's apparent lack of drive to stand at Dalmasca's side. He'd been there when Ondore had said that they must wait for an opportunity to strike and Ashe's disappointment had been clear as day. After she wandered away, he'd attempted to follow but she'd told him in no uncertain terms to leave her be.

Though Basch had known the young princess only briefly in the past, he knew patience wasn't one of her strong suites. Neither did she take rejection gracefully, proving that neither trait had changed by attempting to steal the _Strahl_, even though she clearly had no notion of how to pilot such a vessel. Now a passenger, Ashe would only have thoughts to occupy her mind. He supposed her thoughts would be as strangers to her about now.

Those thoughts seemed to consume her from the inside out. Ashe had turned reticent since asking to be 'kidnapped', avoiding conversation with everyone with equal displeasure and snapping whenever someone tried to talk to her. She seemed to smoke and smoulder with resentment, no doubt despising the fact that everyone else seemed to pull on her strings to make her dance; Ghis, Ondore and before them all the rest. Then there was the matter of him being alive of course.

So it surprised him when Ashe took her eyes away from the upholstery of Penelo's chair and leaned across to Basch's.

"A word. Now.

Not seeming to care about an answer, Ashe got out of her chair and headed into the main corridor. Obediently yet dreading the coming conversation, Basch followed her without complaint.

They stopped at the far end, as far as possible from earshot of the others. She raised her gaze to consider him. It seemed to Basch that the earlier rage had mostly abandoned her, leaving behind a cold hatred in her eyes and a slight confusion. Though she'd never admit it, she wore her heart on her sleeve.

"Your actions confound me," she told him straight forwardly. "Trusted though you may be by Vossler, he isn't above making mistakes. I simply cannot convince myself that he is right to place his trust in you. Though your blade served me well on the Leviathan, though I thank you for it, the shame of placing my trust in the hand that smote my father is too difficult to ignore. I cannot bare this shame. So tell me, why are you doing this? Why did you kill my father?"

Basch waited, letting the question hang long enough for Ashe to recover herself. "I committed no such crime, Majesty. You have my word."

"Your word?" she said with distaste. "What value is there to be found in the word of a traitor?"

"As much value as in that of a loyal servant," Basch answered, bowing slightly as he did.

She didn't like that answer. "Loyal servants don't slay their masters out of hand. Loyal servants don't betray their masters to others in the guise of doing what is in their best interests. Loyal servants would sooner die than bring shame or harm upon their master."

Basch bowed again. "Majesty, I promise that I did not slay your father. I did all I was able to protect Dalmasca. You must trust me."

Ashe regarded him wryly. "Trust is earned, fon Ronsenburg, not given. Don't expect me to take your word as it is." Before he knew it, she was gone, returning back to the bridge.

"Very well, Majesty," he quietly said after her. "Then I shall earn your favour again, even if I must go unto world's ending to do so."

_1.__3 - Shopping_

After their long flight across the Naldoan Sea, it was commonly agreed by all that they should stop in Rabanastre, to replenish their supplies and to rest. When the hatch of the _Strahl_ had dropped, they'd gone their separate ways, agreeing to meet up at the town fountain later on. They'd separated at the Southern Plaza, Ashe heading alone to Southgate, stating that she'd intended to visit the Resistance HQ in Lowtown when Basch asked. When he'd offered to guard her, she'd ignored him and left without a word.

Before they'd docked, Basch had elected himself the _Strahl's_ supply captain, confiscating money from everyone in the party but Ashe (who had none anyway) for supplies. So, with nothing but time on his hands, he headed into the East End.

He went into several different shops, buying everything on the supply list in just over an hour and two trips. Food, water, medicine for general ills, a new sword for him, a sword he estimated would be good for Ashe's cruder style of swordplay, ammunition for the sky pirates and some curious 'phoenix downs'. The street vendor had claimed to an enthralled audience that the wonder drug could bring people back to life. Basch scoffed but still bought half a dozen anyway. Fate just loved to be tempted and teased.

With nothing left to buy, he was about to head back to the _Strahl_ once more to drop off the provisions when a shop to his left caught his eye. In the window was a headless and armless mannequin garbed in an eye-catching red dress. The sign above the door read: _Madame Cavendish's – Making princesses out of paupers_. Basch almost passed it by until casually reading the sign. Ashe, an effective pauper, disinherited from throne and nation, sprang to mind. Then her inappropriate skirt sprang up right after her. Something just had to be done about that, he thought.

Against his greater inclination, for such shops confounded him, Basch pushed the door open and stepped inside.

_1.__4 - Pitch_

"What was it you wished to discuss with me then?" Ashe asked, leaning against the outer wall of Vaan and Penelo's home. There were few people in the street, it already being past midnight in the city above. That was good, Basch reckoned. He didn't want anyone to overhear this conversation, which was the reason he'd decided to hold it outside in the first place.

Basch shifted on the balls of his feet in a display of uncharacteristic nervousness, like a boy half his age about to ask his best friend out on a date. Dismissing the analogy, Basch tried to find his voice, already knowing that the topic of discussion would be uncomfortable, if not for her then certainly for him.

"If you would accommodate me, Majesty, I wished to discuss… your apparel." He said the last two words hastily, hoping she wouldn't understand.

She didn't. "I beg your pardon?"

Basch sighed. "Your apparel, Lady Ashe."

Basch noted that the previous discomfort, the way she held her arms crossed before her and the way she kept her eyes averted suddenly changed. Her brow furrowed, her hands dropped to her sides and she stared at him blankly, confused. "My apparel?" she echoed hollowly.

"Yes, your Majesty." Basch already felt like this conversation was rapidly going downhill.

"Why?"

It was the question Basch had dreaded. He swallowed in resignation and tried to answer all the same. "I feel that it is not fitting for royalty to wear a skirt… of such length," he gestured blindly at the pink strip of clothing.

"Why?" Her expression and tone echoed that of a confused, inquisitive six year old.

"You… I… It is…it is uncouth…" he fumbled, desperate to avoid using the words 'thighs' or 'posterior'.

"Uncouth? My legs are covered," she gestured to her bizarre greaves.

"If I may, I bought you a new skirt from the town." Like a cheap street magician, he brought out said package from behind his back where he'd hidden it since the start of the conversation. She took the parcel numbly, her gaze alternating between it and him.

Eventually, she ripped away the tissue paper and brought out a knee length, white skirt. To Basch's eye, it seemed to match her white overcoat quite well. But Ashe held it at arms length between thumb and forefinger as though it smelled of dung. After an awkward minute, where she just stared at it like she'd never seen a (proper) skirt before, Ashe turned her attention back to him.

"You overstep your bounds, Captain fon Ronsenburg." She thrust the skirt back into his hands. "I'm quite content with what I'm wearing at present."

"Majesty, I-"

"If you like it so much then _you_ wear it."

Then she stormed back into the house, leaving Basch in the street to think about the million different, better ways he could've made his pitch.

000000

Fortunately, everyone had been in the warm kitchen or in their rooms when he'd re-entered, leaving his way across the small living room clear. His shared bedroom was empty too, which was also good. That would make things less awkward. All the same, once he was inside, he kept looking over his shoulder nervously, noises outside sounding closer to the door than they were. As such, it took a few moments to gather his daring before he made his move. Ignoring the sounds and taking a deep breath, Basch began to lift up his mattress, the skirt in hand ready to be hidden.

Unfortunately, at that moment, the noises outside turned out to be much closer than Basch thought after all. The door opened.

"Yeah Penelo, I'm getting it now," called Vaan from the doorway, looking out into the lounge. Then he turned around and froze.

Basch could only imagine what this had to look like to the Rabanastran boy. With the mattress raised at an angle, a highly questionable item in his hand and Galtea only knew what his expression looked like; all this combined must have screamed guilt. Vaan closed the door slowly.

"Uh hi, Basch."

"Good evening Vaan," Basch said cordially, trying to make it seem like this was normal behaviour, while hiding the skirt behind his back. "I was just… flipping my mattress."

"With the sheets still on?"

Basch looked down, already knowing that Vaan was right. He was sharper than Basch had initially taken him to be. "Oh… yes, you're right." He dropped the mattress back again.

"What's that in you hand?" he pointed.

"I know not what you mean," Basch said, casually slipping his other hand behind his back.

It didn't deter Vaan. "Let me see," Vaan took a step forward, quickly reaching around and grabbing the material. Basch was so surprised that he accidentally let go of it. The look on the boy's face would've been priceless as he unfolded the fabric if the situation had been different. "Is this… a skirt?"

At that moment, Basch wholeheartedly wished he was back in Nalbina. "It-"

"-Does Ashe know?"

"I'm sorry?" Now Basch was the one confused.

The previous look of confusion had gone. Instead, he looked at Basch as though _he_ was the one being coy. "That you like to cross-dress?"

The cage had never looked so attractive. "No, I-"

"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me." Vaan tapped his nose, handed back the skirt and darted out of the door. When the door closed, Basch heard a sound that sounded suspiciously like a snort.

Why did he get the feeling that everyone would hear this tale in no time at all?

_1.__5 – Awkwardness_

"I think we're _skirting_ round the issue here, don't you?"

Irritated at yet another joke made at his expense, the most recent of many made over the last day, Basch walked out of the kitchen where Balthier had made the pun. He left behind a giggling Penelo, a laughing Vaan and even a mildly amused Fran who'd given a rare smile of mirth at Balthier's witticism. Basch, however, was not amused. Thinking to rest, he made his way into the living room and was just at the door to his shared room when he changed his mind.

His eyes fell on the door which hid the room that Ashe and Penelo shared. The princess had been the only one who hadn't joined everyone else for dinner, claiming she wasn't hungry. As it happened, she hadn't left her room since Basch had made his pitch. Only Penelo had seen her and only then because they shared a bedroom. He wondered if Ashe had calmed down enough to listen to an apology.

By the time he decided that she wasn't, his body had already betrayed him and he was knocking on the door.

"Your Majesty? Are you there?"

On the other side of the door, he heard the telltale noises of movement. "Where else am I likely to be?"

Basch reflected that it had been a stupid question. "Might I speak with you?"

"No."

"Majesty, I wish to apologise."

There was a pause and then more movement. The sound of covers being thrown off met Basch's ears, followed by the sound of footsteps. Then he heard the latch being lifted and the door hinges creak. Ashe threw the door wide open.

She rested one arm on her hip, whilst keeping her other had firmly on the door as though it were a shield. "I am listening."

Basch kept his eyes downcast as he spoke. "I wish to apologize for intruding on personal matters that were not my business. It is not my place to tell you how to dress and I recognise that I overstepped my bounds. I humbly beg your forgiveness."

Ashe tilted her head to the left slightly, a gesture reminiscent of bygone days which she'd always used when she was thinking. After a silent minute she nodded. "See that it doesn't happen again."

"It won't, Majesty."

They both stood awkwardly at the door, the tension in the room no lesser than it had been before. But now the reason was different. Basch shifted uncomfortably, now not knowing what else there was to say. For her part, Ashe wouldn't meet his eyes either and seemed to take a profound interest in her feet.

Eventually Basch cleared his throat. "If your Majesty would excuse me, I shall retire for the night. We depart on the morrow."

Ashe nodded. "Very well then. Good night."

"Good night, your Majesty." Basch walked away, hardly daring to believe that making his apology had gone as smoothly as it did.

"Captain?"

Basch turned around, meeting his liege's eyes. "Aye, Majesty?"

"Never mind," she said after a brief hesitation. With that she ducked back into her room and closed the door.

Basch stared at the door for a time, wondering what it was that his sovereign had been about to say. He couldn't even fathom a guess. He was still staring at the door when Penelo entered the living room.

"You know if you don't want to ask Ashe, I have some beauty products you can use, if you want to go out on the town."

_1.6 - Reminiscence_

As they emerged on the deserted coast of the Ogir-Yensa, Vaan ran off ahead to touch the shimmering lake of moving sand. Basch felt a similar curiosity, having to confess that he too was astounded by it and wondered how this sand had achieved the texture of water. Before he could muse on it further, Penelo came to his side and asked him how far it was to their destination: King Raithwall's Tomb.

After Penelo was satisfied with his explanation, they decided to split into pairs to make their way across the sands. Balthier and Fran elected to act as the rearguard by virtue of the fact that they both carried weapons with range. Likewise, Vaan and Penelo immediately joined themselves together, leaving Basch to travel with his liege by default. In any case, Vossler had left her in _his_ care. There was no way that Basch would relinquish that duty to anybody else.

Together they formed the vanguard, being the most experienced in swordplay. The others followed behind, warily watching for foes that were nowhere to be found.

As they walked, Ashe picked up a habit of attempting to say something but cutting herself off each time before she could mutter a syllable. To avoid a scene, Basch pretended not to notice until finally she seemed to pluck up the courage to speak what was on her mind.

"Captain fon Ronsenburg, did you kill my father?"

The question came out of the blue but Basch noted the subtle rewording that he'd been hoping for. Though she'd only dropped the word 'why' from her question, it made all the difference in the world. She still seemed disbelieving, but there was now clear room for doubt. That was all he needed, all he'd been hoping for.

"Nay, Majesty, I did not."

"Then I would have you tell me what occurred that night in Nalbina, as you saw it."

"Very well, your Majesty." And so Basch launched into his tale from where it had begun: just after the failed counterattack by the Order against Archadia. He detailed how he and the survivors had stormed the fortress, defeating the Archadian's on the walls and cutting their way through. She listened astutely as he described how Vaan's brother Reks had helped him forge his path and then stayed behind on the stairs long enough for Basch to reach the king.

"When I reached the High Hall, your father was just about to affix his seal to the terms of surrender. At first, it seemed as though there was no-one else there, save Vayne Solidor and your father's honour guard. But we were ambushed just as his late Majesty signed the treaty. Those with me were slain to a man but I was held down out of the way. It was then that my brother entered the hall and murdered your father, and Reks also to act as a witness to the deed. I was then taken away to the dungeons, accused of treason and put to death in the eyes of the proletariat."

Throughout the story, Ashe hadn't said a word, even when he described things that just seemed highly improbable. As he'd mentioned his twin brother, he was surprised that she hadn't interrupted and told him that she thought his tale was absurd. But she didn't. Even now however, she didn't pass comment.

"Majesty, do you believe my words?"

"Your brother is the Judge whom Vaan and the others saw?"

"Aye, Majesty."

She tilted her head to the side and paused. They kept on walking, the sound of their footsteps on the metal grill beneath their feet the only sound she made.

"Yes," she said abruptly. "Yes, I do believe you. Though I'm not sure I trust you yet."

_1.__7 - Shame _

Somehow, Vossler managed to find them several hours along the path through the refineries. How he'd managed to catch them up, clad as he was in the full armour of the Order, Basch couldn't guess. Ashe had been immediately pleased to see him and when they'd talked, she managed to work a smile. Though it was a tired smile and somewhat strained, Basch was envious that his colleague could do what he could not. All the same, he was happy enough that she now believed him at least.

It showed prominently in her actions. As they made their way across the Ogir-Yensa Sandsea, the two of them would often be side by side, Ashe pushing forward at a relentless pace, seemingly reassured that Basch was nary more than a step behind her. Not long after Vossler had joined their party, the Urutan-Yensa made their presence known. On one occasion while fighting them, she'd even saved Basch's life, pushing him out of the way of an incoming arrow and luckily managing to deflect it on her shield. He'd then both thanked her and apologised for several hours.

When they finally stopped for rest, Basch noted that the dispossessed princess eyed him with respect and certainty. Knowing that made him feel better, as though her acceptance of him was like a poultice drawing out bad blood. For the first five minutes of rest, they sat and talked with Vossler and Basch felt content in a way he hadn't in years. Even the skirt argument was far from his mind.

Then Ashe stood up and everything changed.

It all started out quite innocently. Ashe had simply stood to get her pack, abandoned in a pile along with everyone else's baggage. Though she'd said nothing about to him, a fairly loud and undignified rumble of her stomach clued Basch in to her intent. His eyes followed her across the metal floor.

But it wasn't just his eyes that followed her.

Vossler's eyes were also quite stuck on the young princess. Basch nodded to his companion, taking it as nothing more than a show of protectiveness, much like his own. But when their young ward bent over in a most unladylike fashion to dig deep in her pack, Basch caught a flash of something white… and lacy.

Immediately he averted his eyes as his face turned a startling shade of red too fast to blame on sunburn or the like. Covering his face with a hand in both shame and embarrassment, Basch waited for his counterpart's reprimand. When he didn't receive it, he looked up again.

To his horror, Vossler's eyes hadn't moved and were quite firmly staring... there.

"Vossler!" Basch cried, indignant but quiet enough not to attract anyone else's attention. The others didn't even look up from their own conversation.

With the look of someone who had briefly forgotten their usual sensibilities, Vossler took his eyes away. Though Vossler kept his emotions in better check than he had managed, he still couldn't meet Basch's eyes.

"Have you no shame, Vossler? She is our charge!"

To his surprise, Vossler didn't take the reprimand well. He crossed his arms and huffed in an undignified manner. "I apologise," he said bitterly. "But do not pretend you didn't do the same."

"Nay, I do not deny it. But I had the decency to look away."

"Pfft," Vossler said, now making a throwaway gesture with his right hand. "Pretend not that you looked and didn't feel an ounce or measure of appreciation."

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Is all well?" interrupted Ashe, casting her shadow between the two knights. In her hands, she held a strip of dried meat, a significant portion already chewed off.

"Everything is fine, Majesty," Vossler said, avoiding Basch's eye and holding the princess's. "We were just having a difference of opinion."

"I see," Ashe said, bemusement marring her pretty features, but she didn't press the issue. "How far is it now to the Tomb?"

Basch launched into a description of the long way they yet had to go, every now and again casting a disapproving glance at Vossler, who gave back as good as he got. Basch resolved to have words sometime in the future but not just with him.

That pink 'belt' had to go.

_1.__8 - Words_

The next opportunity to have words didn't come until they were halfway across the Nam-Yensa Sandsea. As freezing night spilt over the landscape, it was commonly agreed that it would be too dangerous to continue. Urutan ambushes, pockets of quicksand and not to forget the sub zero temperature meant it would be suicide to try.

They set up camp in the one of the crystal glades where fiends never dared to tread. Of course, that wasn't to say the crystal would prevent a large, unruly group of Urutan-Yensa poking their noses in and cutting their throats in the dead of night. So when they arranged the tents, Basch and Vossler oversaw their arrangement with experienced eyes, placing them so they wouldn't impede the line of sight too badly. Though they didn't speak on the matter of wandering eyes again, their discomfort translated itself into their body language and the harsh orders they gave the others.

In the end, the tents were arranged in a crescent, with the fire in its crook and the crystal behind. With the camp made, a watch decided on and a fire blazing, they all sat around the campfire save for Vossler who agreed to sit first watch by the crystal. Over the last three days of crossing the Ogir-Yensa and then the Nam-Yensa, Basch had hardly said two words to Ashe outside of battle. Usually when they set up camp, if neither one of them was on watch, they were too exhausted for talk.

On Basch's part, that hadn't been the only reason for his reticence. As he had shadowed Ashe, so too did Vossler. There never seemed a moment where Vossler's shadow didn't fall over his or hers. Though there was still a trace of anger towards his counterpart's conduct, Basch wasn't petty enough to assume that was the only reason Vossler kept close watch. Basch knew him to be as loyal a son of Dalmasca as he himself was.

So while he was on the other side of the camp, Basch saw the opportunity and used it to his advantage.

Ashe didn't sit far removed from their travelling companions in snobbery as he would've expected her to at age seventeen. Two years of rough living appeared to have broken down those sensibilities and now she spoke with Fran quite amicably. As he stood, her eyes met his and she ended her conversation with a quick comment he couldn't catch. The Viera nodded and returned her attention to her partner in crime, who was talking with Vaan and Penelo about… Basch wasn't sure what they were whispering about. But every now and then they glanced at him, Penelo and Vaan often laughing when they did, so he could venture a guess.

He didn't get an opportunity to find out for certain though. Before he could speak, Ashe beat him to the draw.

"Captain, might I have a private word?"

Put on the backburner, Basch simply nodded and followed her to the outskirts of their camp, away from fire and crystal both. They stopped a safe distance away, far enough not to be heard but close enough for aid to come should it be needed. She lifted her eyes and took a step towards him. It was with discomfort that Basch noticed how close they now stood, face to face. It wasn't usual. Perhaps she was going to slap him again.

"Are you going to tell me what the matter is?" she asked.

"Pardon?" Basch didn't have to feign bemusement.

"Don't play me for a fool, Captain fon Ronsenburg. It is clear that your relationship with Vossler grows more strained by the day. And I'm not the only one to notice. What did you think Fran and I were discussing? So I ask you to tell me what the matter is. Your rivalry could imperil us all at an inopportune moment. What is wrong?"

"I-" He didn't know what to say. Just a minute ago, he'd been about to talk with her on the subject. Now that _she _approached _him_ on the issue, he was, for one of the first times in his life, caught off guard.

She seemed to understand, softening her expression and her tone. "I would ask you to confide in me. If you cannot resolve your issues with Vossler, than allow me to do so in your stead."

Basch nodded his head but didn't say anything. This was going to be difficult to explain diplomatically.

"It bothers me to see you and Vossler disagree as you do," Ashe continued. "Is it about your crossed words at the refinery?"

"You heard?" he choked, trying to pass it off plausibly as a cough.

"So it is that," she said smirking. It took a moment to realise that the wily princess had caught him out. "Surely I wouldn't be asking if I already knew of the matter."

"Just so. It is a somewhat… embarrassing affair, Majesty."

"I shan't leave you alone until this matter is resolved." There was still a trace of a smirk on her lips.

"Very well," Basch sighed. "Very well, I shall tell you."

000000

With a superior range of hearing, Fran heard every word of the private conversation. She didn't mean to eavesdrop but she took no pains to ignore them either. Her come-uppance soon arrived though in the form of a yell, Ashe's voice raised so high she had to clamp her hands down over her tall ears.

"HE DID WHAT!?"

_1.9 – Remembrance_

The mood had changed drastically in little more than a day. From a meaningless rivalry into a full-blown treachery, Basch's relationship with Vossler had descended to new lows. He supposed it no longer mattered. Vossler was dead now, choosing to go down with the _Shiva_ to make up for his betrayal. He could almost forgive the deceased knight, knowing that though he made a deal with the devil, he did so with Dalmasca's best interests at heart.

He might've been able to forgive Vossler if the betrayal had stopped there. What Basch couldn't find it in him to forgive was the manner in which he betrayed Ashelia.

The disgraced knight had gone too far. Not only had he drawn a sword on Basch, but he'd drawn on Ashelia too. At one stage during their fight on the deck of the Shiva, Vossler had taken a swing at his (former) charge that would've cleaved her top half from her bottom if she hadn't parried in time. Whether the motion was accidental or on purpose, he had almost succeeded in carrying out regicide, the highest of all treasons. Then, when the battle was done, Basch had left him there to die, arbitrating justice merely by walking away.

In a way, Basch supposed it was ironic how the loyal became a kingslayer and the kingslayer became loyal. What a strange twist of fate.

But of course, if anyone had been more profoundly touched by the episode than him it was Ashelia. For a time afterward, when the Dawn Shard had been recovered, she'd succumbed to a shocked silence. But it hadn't lasted long. Indeed, Basch truly admired her ability to pick up her life and carry on when the world conspired to destroy her. She was an incredible woman.

_Knock_

The sound of the person at the door jarred Basch out of his thoughts. Wondering who would be knocking, he got up from his bed and made for the door. Perhaps it was Vaan, wondering if it was safe to come in. The teenager had taken to doing that whenever they had to share a room, even though it was his and Penelo's home they were staying in once more.

He opened the door to find Ashelia on the other side.

"Might I come in?" she asked.

Somewhat surprised, Basch stepped back to allow the princess access. Thanking him, she stepped inside, making her way to the far side of the room and standing awkwardly. Closing the door, he gestured towards the bed as an invitation to sit down. She did so, leaving Basch to respectfully keep his distance by the door.

"I just wanted to tell you…" her voice trailed off and she stared into her lap for a moment. Basch waited, giving her time to find her own words. She looked up again. "I just wanted to thank you."

"Thank me, Majesty?"

"Yes," she said, standing up again. She met his eyes fleetingly before turning her gaze back to the wall. "For standing by my side."

"It is my duty, Majesty, to stand by you to the last."

"You are the only person in Ivalice I can trust to do so." She looked at him again and Basch could see the gratitude in her expression. "You are all I have left. And I want to thank you for ne'er failing in your duty. It means everything to me."

"You… do me great honour, Majesty."

"You deserve it." She stood again, seemingly saying all she had needed to say. Basch held the door open for her and she stepped past, smiling at him as she went. When she was on the other side again she turned around. "And Basch?"

He blinked in surprise. Not in years had she called him by his first name without his title attached. "Yes, Majesty?"

"I want you to call me Ashe, like the others."

The request took him aback. Never before had he ever called the deposed queen by her first name. It was something he'd never even thought to do, being at ease with sticking to the use of honorific as society demanded.

"Very well, Maj- Ashe."

"Hmm we'll have to work on that."


	2. At Forearms Length

_Author Notes: _Just a quick thank you to everyone who reviewed the last part. I've had my misgivings about this one but here it is anyway. Now, onward...

_Part 2 – __At Forearms Length _

_2.1 – Warmth_

Was it just her was it devastatingly hot? Though, she knew it to be conventional weather for the season. The sky was an expanse of purest blue and the heat was so intense that it seemed the very air was melting. But this was normal in Dalmasca, typical, run-of-the-mill. So why was it so unbearable now after all these years?

Ashe supposed it had something to do with their lengthy jaunt down south. After all, the Paramina Rift wasn't exactly noted as a hotspot in any sense of the word. The cold hadn't particularly bothered her at the time. The nethicite uncannily kept her warm where the others, even Fran, complained of the cold. But even when she didn't hold the Dawn Shard, the fires of her resolve had warmed her blood, forcing her onward and to be ignorant of the biting frozen winds.

The Dawn Shard lay on the nightstand next to her and she wondered if perhaps that was why she felt the heat more than usual.

"Why are we still here?" she asked herself irritably. She didn't expect an answer but then no-one was in the room to answer. And she'd learned long ago that the first sign of madness is not to talk to yourself, but to answer your own questions.

"It would be foolish to begin the long march unprepared," said the by-now familiar voice behind her. She turned, finding Basch standing in the doorway, physical evidence that she wasn't as alone as she thought. The door was wide open and he leaned against its frame. She wondered how he had managed that without alerting her. "On the route we shall traverse, there are no settlements of any great size that we shall be able to visit. Better to stay away from spheres of Imperial influence."

"You are right, of course," she lay down fully on the bed she'd been sitting on. "But this heat…" She hung her head over the edge of the bed and saw that for some reason Basch was now standing upside down. "Does it bother you also?"

As if in answer to her question, Basch wiped his hand across his forehead. "Aye," he answered, shifting his eyes from her to the ceiling. "After the mountains, I thought I should be glad to walk Dalmasca's sands again. As it stands, that is no longer the case."

"How long shall the others be?" It occurred to Ashe that she must look fairly childish in this position with her hair just hanging above the carpet. As Basch answered, she rolled over onto her front.

"I know not. I lost sight of them in the Bazaar. They could quite feasibly be on the other side of the city by now."

Ashe let out a frustrated groan. When she stopped to analyse such actions, as she did now, it surprised her just how comfortable she'd gotten around her only loyal subject over the last three months. There was a time when she would hide even the slightest sign of discomfort from him by scowls and harsh words. Not so anymore.

The sense of ease was one sided no longer. Basch closed the door and made a seat for himself on the corner of her bed, all without asking her permission. It had taken quite some time for her to break him of that habit but they were closer for it. Though theirs was not a normal sense of closeness. Even now, the very act of sitting in her presence without asking had a certain sense of significance.

"I cannot stand this," she exclaimed. "Surely this is not normal." But they both knew it was. They were veterans out of practice taking up the sword against Dalmasca's insufferable climate. It would take some getting used to. Fortunately, their road would take them to Archadia and the north, where she'd heard the blessedly cool breezes of Tchita blew all the year round. She couldn't wait to get there.

As it was, even the simple task of standing up was an effort and she felt slightly dizzy on her feet when she managed it. Damn this heat! It took strength of will to prevent herself shaking her fist at the sun. There were still limits to how she would act in front of Basch and such an undignified gesture was beyond that line.

"Would you like some water, Lady Ashe?"

Two thuds answered him as her steel shoes flew off her feet and into the wall. "Yes, that would be much appreciated. My thanks."

Basch nodded and left the room once more, leaving her alone with the heat. Resting her right foot on the bed, Ashe began attacking the straps of her leg armour with zeal. With her back to the door, she struggled with it momentarily before taking it off in pieces. She took a somewhat sadistic pleasure in throwing them to the floor a little harder than was strictly necessary. The other greave soon found itself on the floor next to its cousin. Sitting down again, she already felt much cooler until she looked at her feet.

Socks! What demon from the deepest circles of the Underworld had possessed her long enough to make her wear socks in this weather? Still sitting, she reached down so that her chest hovered just above her legs and forcibly removed them. However, as she came to removing the second one, the tinkling sound of breaking glass met her ears.

What had once been a glass of water was now spilt water and broken glass on the carpet. Looming over them was Basch, staring at her in abject horror.

"Your Majesty!" he said abruptly, diverting his eyes to the shards on the floor. "Forgive me. I shall get you another."

He fled the room faster than a wolf during the desert hunts. The whole exchange had taken less than five seconds and Ashe was staring at the door wondering what had just happened.

Slowly, it dawned on her what had caused the problem.

Her pose must've looked incredibly provocative. What had been purely practical to her must've had an entirely different connotation to him. Even worse, she realised that she'd been bent over when she did it. Looking down, what she dreaded was clearly apparent. Basch had just been treated to a rather intimate audience with her cleavage. Coupled with the bare legs, no wonder he ran away.

Did he think…? Oh heavens above, she hoped he didn't think she was trying to seduce him.

Worrying about what Basch might think, she covered her legs with the bed sheet and waited for him to return. When he finally did, he met her eyes briefly before turning his gaze to the floor. As he came closer, it was apparent that his grip on the glass was vice-like, so much so that she was surprised he hadn't broken this one between his fingers. He approached the bed and handed it over without a word. She accepted without a word, not looking at her guardian. But as she reached for it, their fingers brushed. The shock was so great it was like electricity running through Ashe's veins. And this time, it was Ashe who dropped the glass.

"Gods curse me," she muttered. "Basch, I-" She stopped speaking when she realized that Basch had gone, but this time to his pack in the corner of their shared room. For some moments, he rummaged around, making a tremendous racket whilst doing so. She didn't ask what he was looking for, knowing full well that her wait would be momentary. Then he stood up again, holding something in his hands.

Her heart dropped when she realised what it was he'd been looking for.

It was that horrid skirt again.

"Majesty, might I suggest you wear this if you intend to leave the room?" he asked awkwardly

The way he'd said it and the way he no longer looked at her annoyed her, but not as much as the sight of the garment. He hadn't brought this issue up in months. It had been so long now that Ashe had thought he'd simply thrown it away. Perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

Evidently.

"I won't wear that Basch. It is as hideous now as it was three months ago."

"Lady Ashe, you can't go out like… like that."

"Why?" The way she sounded reminded her of their conversation months before in Lowtown; the day when he'd first shown her the skirt. She'd asked the exact same question then as she did now but she wasn't going to back down so quickly this time.

"I- I'd rather not say."

"Why?"

"It makes me uncomfortable."

"Why?"

"Lady Ashe, could you please…" His voice trailed off. "It is not right that I – others, should be able to see your legs."

The slip made her curious. "Why?"

"Majesty, please stop," his tone seemed to be getting a little rougher.

She smiled at him. It would seem she was annoying him. Good. "Why?"

He sat down on the bed once more, thrusting the skirt out at her with barely concealed aggravation. "Because I asked you to, your Majesty."

In as childish a voice as she could muster, she asked, "Why?"

In a moment his face was only an inch from hers. They were so close their noses were almost touching and his breath lightly tickled her face. It occurred to her that if she wanted to, Ashe could steal a kiss from him.

But why would she want to do something as silly as that?

He pushed the skirt into her hand. "Please, Majesty."

"No."

He pulled back, taking the skirt with him. He said nothing in response.

"Basch, I'll wear my greaves when we set out. But I should sooner walk in the nude than wear that thing," she pointed at the offending article.

Basch conceded with a "very well" and plucked the neglected glass off the bed, stating that he'd get her yet another glass.

When he was gone, Ashe rested her head against the wall behind her and tried to forget her own embarrassment.

_2.2 - Perfection_

"So this is Archadia?" It wasn't quite like anything she'd been expecting. What her expectations had been, she couldn't say. Something darker, most definitely. Certainly nothing like this.

The Phon Coast was one of the most beautiful places that Ashe had ever seen. In Dalmasca, the sands were a harsh yellow; here they were like cloth-of-gold, stretching on from here to eternity. Straddling it to the right was the bluest body of water imaginable. The Nebra looked like mud in comparison. Even the heat was perfect, warm but not uncomfortably so like in Nalbina.

Nalbina… thinking about that place brought it all back, as if it wasn't already on the fore of her mind.

It had been a full two weeks trek through the Mosphoran Highwaste and the Salikawood. Since Nalbina, Basch had barely spoken a word to her. When they sat around the campfires, he would speak when necessary and be silent when it wasn't. On the road, he was little better and for the past fortnight he had been an almost unbearable travelling companion. Whenever she could, she chose to walk with Penelo and Vaan. But even when she did she found herself looking over her shoulder habitually at least once every ten minutes to find him staring at the ground.

At first, she didn't know what to make of it. This simply wasn't the Basch fon Ronsenburg she knew. But it became more obvious with time that she'd gone and scared him off; ruining what semblance of their friendship they had with a brief and accidental flash of leg and cleavage. True to her word, she'd never gone anywhere without first putting on her greaves but that didn't seem to help in the least. For a time, she did entertain the notion of at least trying on the skirt he bought, just to get him talking again. Then she would picture herself wearing it and either laugh or find it a ridiculous notion. So there was a stalemate between them and the radio silence went on.

No more, she decided. She'd had quite enough of this nonsense.

"Quite the beautiful spot, isn't it?" Balthier said, sidling up to her side. "A pretty place and a pretty woman; my definition of paradise."

She didn't answer and he didn't wait for one. Flashing a winning smile, he continued on down the hill to the beaches with Fran following at his heel, holding his invisible leash. As she passed, the Viera gave her a familiar look, as if apologizing for her partner's flirting. The two teenagers from Rabanastre followed right behind them, racing each other down the hill. As they ran, they both tried to push the other over. Penelo finally succeeded halfway down and won the race by a mile, leaving Vaan sat on the ground with his hair and face covered in sand. Ashe felt no immediate inclination to follow them. She was just happy to stand and look out for as far as the eye could see. The journey for Archades and the nethicite could wait just a little longer.

"Lady Ashe?"

So enraptured was she with the landscape, it took Ashe a moment to remember that she wasn't alone on the hilltop. Basch respectfully stood to attention at her side, saying nothing and avoiding her eye, as usual. Fran didn't seem to be the only one holding someone's leash. In her hands, Ashe held his and he wouldn't go anywhere without her say-so. Not _this_ again, she thought, but at least he was speaking of his own volition.

"Are you talking to me again?" she asked him hopefully.

"I wasn't aware that I had stopped, Majesty."

"You know what I mean, Basch," she said, somewhat riled by his lack of co-operation. Even now, he still wouldn't look at her. "Before we could talk on anything, you and I. Now you avoid me like the black death." He didn't say anything. "I didn't mean to show myself off to you."

Was it her imagination or was Basch blushing? Well, damn his embarrassment to the Underworld. They had to get past this. Ashe didn't want to lose him as a friend. She'd admitted to herself long ago that she needed his help in all things and Basch was the only one she trusted to help her.

"Speak to me, Basch. Look at me." She stepped forward and reached out towards him. He didn't flinch like she expected him to when she placed her hand beneath his chin. She raised his eyes to hers. Though he was taller than she was, Basch seemed to look up to her when he finally managed to meet her eyes. She didn't take her hand away, enjoying the feel of his skin. "I was not trying to seduce you. It was an accident. What I did, I did for solely practical reasons. Forgive me."

His eyes darted away. "There is nothing to forgive, Lady Ashe."

She sighed. It was like they were back to square one. "Would it help if I wore… the thing?" There was no way Ashe would call it a skirt. It was the most gaudy, shapeless scrap of material she'd ever seen in her life.

He shook his head once in answer. "Nay, your Majesty. That shall not be necessary. Forgive my behaviour. I have not been myself."

She put a finger to his lips, stilling his apology. That same volt of electricity as before jumped through her at the touch. "Don't apologise. Just do not make me order you to speak to me. I came close to that line."

"I'm sorry," he said, her finger still on his lips.

"Stop. No more apologising."

"I'm so-"

"What did I just say?"

He smiled at her then and it made a smile perk her lips too. No words needed to be spoken, no gestures needed to be made. They just stood there, her finger on his lips, her hand under his chin, staring into each others eyes. She realised that she'd never really looked into his eyes before. Now there was nowhere else to look, not that she wanted to. The beauty of the sands suddenly seemed base and uninteresting, the flawless blue sky standard and boring. But those eyes were like nothing she'd ever seen before; so guarded yet alive.

The moment she knew to be perfection in its rawest form, her knowledge coming from experience. This was only the second time in her life she'd felt such a sense of… being complete. The first time had been with Rasler, that day they stood on the balcony looking out over Rabanastre.

Rasler…

She closed her eyes, breaking the connection as though with an imaginary sword. How could she be doing something like this now, on the road to Archades? Every step on the road, she'd made for him. This wasn't the time for such indulgences.

But when she opened her eyes and took away her hands, she didn't feel guilty. In Basch, she saw the same man as she had married two years prior. He was just as brave, just as dutiful, and just as loyal as Rasler had been. He watched her pensively and pragmatically, waiting to see what would come next. She doubted he would ever be fully able to stop following her lead.

"Come. We should keep up with the others."

So they set off down the hill, side by side and Ashe simply couldn't silence the voice in her mind singing for joy little more than she could stop herself from smiling.

_2.3 - __Sacrifice_

The Phon Coast was two days behind them, the Tchita Uplands continued ahead beyond sight. It was a rather uniform and aesthetically displeasing place, a land which progress had forgotten. Though it was renowned in the region for being a great base of agriculture, all Basch had seen so far was grass, dotted with the occasional ruin hiding the occasional monster. He wondered how much further it was to this Cave Palace Balthier had told them off. The horizon hadn't seemed to have changed for days, giving him the curious illusion that they hadn't moved at all.

Occasionally, Basch worried it would look suspicious if an Archadian patrol happened upon them, six heavily armed people in the middle of nowhere. But because it was the middle of nowhere, and not a border region, not even Remora patrols could be spotted in the sky. They were really quite alone in this place seemingly without end.

They broke up camp before the dawn. Vaan and Penelo had crawled out of their tent complaining about the early hour like they did every morning, Balthier didn't say a word to anyone and even Fran didn't seem overly pleased at seeing the sunrise. Basch empathised with her. Though he would never complain or even acknowledge his own tiredness, at the end of the day he was only Hume. This journey had been going on for almost three weeks already and he wasn't infallible.

Unlike his liege it would seem. It was always Ashe who woke up first in the morning. And it was always her and whoever was unfortunate enough to be on last watch (Balthier in this case) who woke everyone up. She'd poke her head into everyone's tent, wake them up, poke and prod them into action or (if absolutely necessary) collapse the tent on them. Basch had laughed harder than he'd known he could on the day she did that to Vaan and Penelo.

That morning, tent collapsing measures were strictly unnecessary. They left as the sun came up and split into pairs. That morning Ashe walked at the front with Fran, at the back followed Vaan and Balthier and sandwiched in between Basch walked with Penelo. His hand never strayed too far from his sword as he kept his eyes focused on the plains ahead. One could never be too careful.

"Basch? Hello? Anybody there?" A hand waved in front of his face.

The gesture snapped Basch out of his focused gaze. It was only then he realized that his eyes had been on Ashe's back the whole time. As ever, he'd been prepared to dart forward if she came into any form of trouble, though he knew she could handle herself. Besides which, there was nothing of any concern and there probably wouldn't be for miles around. He turned his attentions to his walking partner.

"My apologies, did you say something?"

"Only for the last five minutes," she replied brightly. "Am I that boring?"

"Not at all. I was merely preoccupied."

"Worrying about Ashe, huh?"

Her casual tone disturbed him slightly, though he didn't know why. "I am her protector. 'Tis my job to worry."

"I guess," she said. Then with a little smile on her face, she added, "She's quite cute though, isn't she?"

_That_ did disturb him for more obvious reasons. "I'm sorry?"

"Well, maybe cute's the wrong word. Hmmm nice is a dull word, attractive doesn't quite fit either…" she rested her chin in the cup of her hand. "What do you think?"

He didn't know what to say so he didn't say anything. Instead, he kept his eyes downcast, as if the conversation was a thing of outrageous scandal. But then again, he supposed it was. It was highly inappropriate to discuss his liege in such a manner. It was dangerous ground; though fatal would probably be a better choice of word.

But Penelo was staring at him, expecting an answer.

"I was unaware that was where your tastes lay, Penelo," he said before he could stop himself.

Bemusement registered on her face. "What?"

"I-" Now he'd done it. He stumbled on. "I… didn't know you… you were…" He leaned in and whispered the last two words into her ear, as if saying them aloud was a capital crime.

Now it was Penelo's turn to be embarrassed.

"No!" she squealed in a voice so high pitched that ahead of them, Ashe and Fran paused their conversation to look around. While Fran merely stared momentarily before moving on, Ashe stopped, her eyes sliding from Penelo to him. He shrugged as though he didn't know either; she smiled and walked on as if she wasn't curious anyway. Behind them, Vaan and Balthier had likewise looked up from their conversation to see what the matter was.

When they were all walking in tandem again, Penelo turned on him. "I can't believe you thought I was a lesbian!" she said, indignant.

"Your speech was suggestive of the fact," he replied vaguely. Penelo's sexuality was a subject he was as uncomfortable discussing as thinking about Ashe in a manner beyond that of his station.

"Ashe is gorgeous and all but that doesn't mean I want to hop into bed with her!" She paused. "I was just trying to see what you think of her," she said. "And when I say think, I mean _think_." Damn the girl's tenacity. It was impossible to ignore her emphasis on the word.

Fortunately he was spared answering by a sudden yell of surprise. Thirty feet ahead, Ashe had been poking around in one of the many ruins that dotted the landscape while Fran had walked on. The yell had been hers, which was hardly surprising, considering the Malboro Overking that was staring at her rather malevolently.

…A Malboro Overking!

"Ashelia," he yelled, drawing his sword and running forward as he did, leaving Penelo behind in his wake. Being caught unawares, Ashe hadn't drawn her own sword and seemed to have forgotten all about it as it stared at her. They seemed to be engaged in a deadly contest: first one to blink dies.

But then she looked in his direction, forfeiting the showdown. There was nothing but befuddlement carved on her features, as if she didn't quite understand what was going on or why she was there.

Twenty feet away from her, Basch watched it begin to slither forwards. Ten feet away and it was obvious that it was closer to her than he was. Five feet away and Ashe finally collected her wits too late and drew steel.

It lunged at her. So did Basch.

Brusquely, he shouldered her out of the way. She fell and his momentum almost pitched him over on top of her. But somehow he managed to keep his feet and dodge the blow from the Malboro at the same time.

Just as he tried his counter swing though, Basch was enveloped in a cloud of purple gas. His arms felt ever so heavy all of a sudden and he couldn't maintain his grip on the sword. It fell to the ground from his frigid fingers. Suddenly he couldn't support his own weight and he fell to his knees, doubling over to rest his head on the cool, cool grass. He lost all awareness of the world around him as his eyes began to darken. Trying to rub away the darkness clouding his sight, he tried to raise his hands but dropped them again as they were too heavy to lift. Then the pain began. His skin burnt all over as though branded by invisible flames. The pain was excruciating, like nothing he'd ever suffered before.

He opened his mouth to scream though no sound came out. Despite that, he screamed and screamed until the darkness blessedly took him.

_2.4 - Medicine_

It had happened so quickly. One moment she thought she saw an abandoned treasure chest in the ruins (over the course of their journey, Ashe had started to adopt a if-we-find-it-it's-ours mentality courtesy of Fran and Balthier, much to Basch's dismay), the next Basch was running towards her, the one after that she was on her back in the grass. It was all so blurry.

It was the strangest time to think about it, but what concerned Ashe more than anything at the time was that her skirt had ridden up to show off more than she was comfortable showing. Perhaps his argument in Nalbina had some credence after all. But that issue was lost on her the moment she saw Basch keel over. For a terrible moment, she thought he was dead. Uncaring about the vicious creature that could and would eat her soon as look at her, she had quickly shuffled over to his side. The relief she had felt seeing his chest rise and fall had been unlike anything she could've expected. She almost wept tears of joy until she remembered that though he lived, he was in a poor state. Those tears unshed took on a bitter edge.

The next moment it seemed Fran was pulling her away, saying that she would help him. Then the next, they were in a tent that seemed to pop out of nowhere. Looking around her, Ashe found an entire camp had been set up. When had that happened?

Time did a funny number then and seemed to slow down. The minutes seemed like hours, the hours like days. The others would shuffle up to her and try to engage her in conversation, try to take her mind off it. Penelo endured by her side the longest but even she couldn't shift the deposed queen's eyes away from the tent. Occasionally Basch made pained sounds from within and Penelo only just managed to hold her back from storming into the tent each time.

Some hours later Fran stepped out of the small tent, crouched almost double to accommodate her ears. Ashe was on her feet so fast that Penelo didn't even try to grab her like before.

"What is it? Is he alright?" she asked, more frantic than she'd expected herself to be.

Fran's expression was taciturn as usual. "He will be fine. Malboro poisoning is a common malady in my homeland and as such easily treatable. Now he sleeps and will do so for some time. When he wakes, he might be somewhat confused and slow-witted but I am used to treating cases such as this. He shall recover fully within a day, perhaps two."

Without waiting to hear more, Ashe breezed past her and into the tent. Neither the Viera nor Penelo could've stopped her if they'd wanted to.

Mostly hidden underneath a blanket, Basch lay in a fitful sleep. Resting wouldn't be the right word for it. He tossed and turned as she entered. When she got closer to him, she found his hair to be damp and his forehead shiny with sweat. His skin though had an unhealthy pale quality to it, far more pronounced than usual. Never in her life had she seen Basch so ill. Over the course of their journey, she'd thought he was indestructible, a quality she envied. Now he was sick, ill in what should by all rights have been her place. She would be in his debt for this for the rest of her life, though no doubt he would say he was just doing his duty. But Ashe didn't know many people who would risk their lives for her without a second thought, duty or no.

His hand stuck out from underneath the covers, clawing at the ground on occasion. Hesitantly, she reached for it to put it back under the covers but the moment their skin connected, his fingers clenched around hers and wouldn't let go. She didn't try to pull away, even though it was like touching the side of a furnace. If there was nothing else she could do for him, then Ashe decided that she would stay by his side throughout his recovery.

Hours passed but they were still as figures in a painting. Not once did Ashe feel the temptation to move, even when the kneeling legs tucked under her began to pain her. It was her fault he was like this, the least she reasoned she could do was to withstand minor pain such as this.

And so she did.

It went dark after a while and difficult to see until someone, Fran she thought, stuck a lamp through the tent flaps. She watched his face grow more and more peaceable and felt his hand feel less and less like a hot coal. The candle in the lamp flickered and burned out but Ashe didn't move to replace it.

When morning came, his grip slackened and he rolled over so his back was to her, effectively wrenching his hand from her grip. For the first time in half a day, she used the opportunity to stretch her legs and get the blood flowing again in her calves. Watching Basch's back, she decided she would do something nice for him when he woke up.

Then her eyes fell on his pack.

_2.5 - Awakening_

If there was one word in his lexicon that summed up how he was feeling… well there were several, all frowned upon in polite conversation. But if this was polite society, he wouldn't be lying on his side, feeling like he'd been stampeded by a herd of anxious Chocobos, surely.

All the same, Basch swallowed the profanity. Instead, he focused his energies on trying to open his eyes. The effort was immense and it would've simply been easier to give it up as a bad job and go back to sleep. But even on what felt like the brink of death, he wasn't about to give up just because he could.

His eyes fluttered open with an effort.

The world was tilted on its axis but he didn't care much. Instead his eyes were caught by a pair of legs in familiar greaves. Slowly trying to sit up, his gaze just as sluggishly moved up (he remembered to close his eyes again at the first glimpse of pink) until Basch was staring at his sovereign's back. Her attention was taken up by something she held in her hands, something he couldn't see.

"What are you doing?" he tried to say, his voice coming out as little more than a rasp.

Ashe jumped in fright, something that brought a smile to his aching face. When she turned to face him, shamefaced as if she was a teenager again, he noted her hands were now clasped behind her back. It looked a practiced manoeuvre, one she'd probably used before but she didn't fool him.

"You're awake," she said. Was it just his imagination or was there a hint of joy in her voice? Either way, she knelt down and reached for his hand with both of hers. "How do you feel?"

She still wasn't fooling him for a moment. Even in his half-fevered state, he knew whatever she'd been holding had been dropped lightly onto her calves.

"Truly Majesty, I have had better days," he replied, his voice articulating his words better. He decided not to press the issue of what she was hiding, knowing if he pushed, she'd push back harder.

"Though you have also had worse."

The smile she gave him was full of warmth. "Aye, I have at that. What happened exactly?"

"You don't remember?" she asked. For some reason, the question seemed to wipe the smile off her face. When he shook his head in answer, he listened as she explained. The explanation stirred something in his memory but the details were just beyond his grasp. It didn't help that his attention wandered quite frequently. He only caught snatches of what she told him but he nodded along every time his focus wavered. If she noticed anything remiss, Basch though she hid it well.

At the end of her story, Ashe placed her hand on his forehead. The contact almost made him jump. Only twice before had he ever touched her skin and each time it had made him feel the same. The shock was prevalent at first, but once it disappeared the contact felt like the most natural thing in the world. After two years of being touched by nothing but the rough gloved hands of the Black Watch guards as they bundled him from cell to cage and back again, Ashe's touch was something far more compassionate. He wondered if there was something wrong with that.

"Your fever is down," she said after a few seconds pause. "I feared it might claim you during the night."

And there was a genuine fear in her gaze and in her voice. Not that he was surprised that she was genuinely concerned for his wellbeing. What confounded him was wondering why he was as pleased as he was.

Though she seemed satisfied that the fever was gone, her hand remained where it was. With quite a bit of effort, he lifted a heavy hand and moved hers from his forehead to just above his heart. "So long as my heart beats, infirmity shall not claim me. Illness shall not prevent me from seeing your dream of a Dalmasca restored become a reality. I give you my word."

Ashe ducked her head, saying nothing in reply for a time. Despite this, Basch could see that her ears were going red. Mortified, he realized he'd embarrassed her. That was the very last thing he wanted.

Trying to sit up to put her at ease, Basch's attempts were made still by his liege's words. "Your words comfort me, Basch." She raised her head and gave him another warm smile. "But it is I who should be comforting you after all you have done in my service."

"In your service? Nay, Majesty. For you."

He tasted the bitter tang of disappointment in his mouth when Ashe took her hand back but his spirit wasn't dampened. Though he could barely summon the energy to sit, that she was safe and that she was content was all that Basch needed and he was as content as he could be.

But as she eventually moved to stand, she forgot about the thing on her calves. So when she stood, it fell to the floor, just beside Basch's hand. It was between his fingers before the look of shock could even form on Ashe's face.

The moment was so rich it was like the air was made of sugar. Deliberately, Basch said nothing as he held the white skirt to eyelevel, as though he'd never seen the garment in his life. The pause stretched on as his eyes met hers and he couldn't quite contain himself.

"Were you planning to try this on, Ashelia?"

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. It was the proverbial icing on the cake and, despite his illness, Basch laughed.

_2.6 - Hand_

"Smells less like a capital and more like a sewer."

A week on and they'd finally arrived in Old Archades. Straight away, Ashe felt that Vaan had a point. There was an awful stench on the air. But as they walked out of the darkness of the Cave Palace and into the smelly light of the city above, she was rather more acutely aware of how closely Basch was standing to her. His arm was so close to hers that she was sure the hairs standing on end on her arm could touch his. She gave him a brief look, which he returned impassively, no doubt about as impressed with the city as she was. In that moment, something seemed to pass between them though she couldn't understand what.

Years later, she still wouldn't be able to say what in the heat of the moment possessed her, what gave her the courage to do what she did, only that she acted without thinking. It was probably the way they had simply looked at each other and had a conversation without words. While the others were looking out over the city beyond, in a fit of daring, Ashe swiftly grabbed Basch's hand.

For a moment, he didn't react. But then he squeezed back a little and she felt the ghost of a smile form on her face.

"Even empires have need of sewers," Balthier told his apprentice, regaling the others with yet another fine speech.

Ashe was oblivious to it all, too ecstatic that her gesture had been reciprocated as she was to notice. They didn't say anything, they didn't share another glance but then they didn't need to. After a moment they let go and as if to emphasize it to their compatriots (who weren't even looking their way) they moved apart.

Only just able to contain her smile, Ashe felt an unfamiliar flutter in her chest, one she hadn't felt for quite some time. The last time she'd felt like this was during her marriage to Rasler…

She'd only felt the flutter after letting go of Basch's hand…

She smiled to herself then because it all suddenly made sense.

000000

What in Ivalice's name had just happened? As they made their way through Old Archades, he wandered somewhat apart from the others, trying to sift through his thoughts. The fact of the matter was that his liege had just held his hand. Without a thought of the message it would send her, like a fool, he'd squeezed back.

What bothered him most was Ashe's reaction. On the surface of things, after they broke apart, she hadn't reacted at all. She didn't say anything, she doggedly avoided looking at him and her skin remained the same tone as before. She never had been one to blush for little things such as this but Basch still recognized her embarrassment. Galtea knew he'd seen her so enough on this journey already.

Then his thoughts drifted once more back to his own reaction. Once upon a time, had Ashe touched him like that, he would've jumped a foot in the air and run a mile. But somewhere along the line, perhaps at the Phon Coast, perhaps even earlier, Basch had gotten comfortable enough around her to hold her hand without a thought of the repercussions.

And, if he was really honest with himself, he did enjoy it.

Then steadily, like a line of dominoes falling, that one realization brought to light the others, one by one until the last domino fell a minute later, leaving him with a truth he'd been blind to.

But now he saw.

He frowned to himself then because it all suddenly made sense.

He spared a look to his liege and found her smiling to herself. It was all very worrying for nothing good could come of this.

Nothing… surely…


	3. At Fingers Length

_Part 3 – __Fingers Length_

_3.1 – Pain_

If she was really honest with herself, she'd never at all expected to come this far. But she had. They all had, together. It was over at last, the long journey finished with. It should've been something of a sad time for it was uncertain whether Balthier and Fran had perished in the sinking of the Bahamut. Though Ashe had a feeling, that even though they hadn't sent word, that the intrepid twosome were still alive and well.

So she focused instead on the here and now, half-safe in the knowledge that her friends were alive. There were six people on the Strahl at present. Vaan sat at the controls of the airship, fortunately having learned enough about flying not to send them hurtling to their deaths. For now they simply hovered over Rabanastre, Penelo sat beside him, ready to act as both navigator and co-pilot for their short journey to the Garland. Larsa sat away from the rest and for the first time since Ashe had first met him, he appeared deeply unsettled. Unsurprising really though, considering he'd just helped to kill his own brother, the only family he had left.

Then there were the two twin brothers at the back of the ship. Larsa had already said his last, heartfelt goodbyes to Gabranth and had calmly left, leaving Basch alone with his brother. Ashe desperately wanted to be at his side, to show him her support, but she knew she couldn't intrude. The moment was for the brothers fon Ronsenburg and them alone.

All was silent on the Strahl apart from the hum of the hover rings and the murmur of voices in the rear of the ship. Ashe kept her eyes resolutely on the Resistance fleet ahead, determined not to intrude. So it was and so it continued.

After a minute or two more, the murmurs at the back of the ship ceased, momentarily replaced by an almost inaudible sniffle.

That was as much as she could bear to stomach. Excusing herself, Ashe fled the bridge; unable to prevent herself from going to the man she loved when he needed her most, even if he didn't know it.

Basch looked like he'd been carved out of stone. His face was frozen in a curious mixture of emotion somewhere between horror and grief. No tears were shed but they glittered in his eyes, the only visible signifier of his pain. He stared at his almost perfect mirror image, whose eyes were now and forevermore closed.

He didn't even notice Ashe step in onto this private moment. His eyes were reserved solely for his brother. There was an old wives tale from Landis, Ashe had heard tell once from her second governess, a Landisser called Poruny. It went that if you wished hard enough, bent all your thought to a special someone, they would hear no matter how far away they were and return within the coming of the full moon if their bond was true. Ashe wondered if Basch had heard of it.

He raised a hand to his eyes and wiped the tears away, breaking the silent, immobile vigil. When his hand came away, the tears were gone and so was his grieving expression, replaced by the usual stoic appearance Ashe had come to know. But today she knew it to be nothing but a façade.

She took his hand, hoping he would understand that it was okay to grieve. It brought back memories of Rasler. After learning of his death, Ashe had cried solidly for a week, locking herself away from the world, keeping the curtains drawn for what good was sunlight to her? And then she'd been able to carry on, though Rasler would always own a part of her, or perhaps it was because she'd realised this that gave her strength.

"It's alright," she told him. And it was. Basch had no reason to fear showing such strong emotion around her. Like a high, stone wall, she'd stand strong against any storm to shelter those she wished to guard. And like that, as if her words had been the hand that turned the tap, Basch's eyes filled with tears anew.

"He is at peace now," she said, keeping her eyes only on Basch, not daring and not wanting to look away.

"Aye."

This time, Basch couldn't contain himself and the crystalline drops rolled down his face. She dropped his hand then, moving forward to hold him tightly, to weather out the storm at his side. He didn't move much, his hands remained at his sides but neither did he pull away. Then the hands inched forward and met around her back, his face found its way into her shoulder and he grieved.

Ashe held him and said nothing, thought nothing except that she would be there for him for as long as he needed her.

And that, she supposed, was what love was all about.

_3.2 –__ Unconditional_

It was such a strange thing. As brothers they hadn't been the closest. In fact, theirs was probably one of the worst fraternal relationships in the history of Ivalice. After the fall of Landis fifteen or so years prior, Basch had only seen Noah thrice before their meeting at Giruvegan. The first time Noah framed him for the murder of King Raminas; the second and third he interrogated Basch about why he still lived, once a year. The closest family bonds were rarely forged in such a manner.

So strange a thing, that Basch had been able to forgive his brother all that. Even stranger that he felt able to grieve for the brother Basch considered as dead to him over fifteen years ago, just as Noah had to him. But family was family and it would be senseless to keep a firm grasp on resentment for a man who was no longer alive to bear it.

So he wept and wept into Ashe's shoulder, quite unsure of how he'd managed to find himself in her arms. But he didn't question why, he didn't really care why. Once again he knew though, that she was trying to save his life with kindness.

Though his mind was for Gabranth, his heart thought only of Ashe. If she asked him repay her kindness with love, then he would do so in a heartbeat. If she asked him to move Ivalice for her, he would ask how far. But she'd never do any of those things because she never asked for anything. And what, pray tell, would a queen do with love anyway?

She asked for nothing but gave herself away willingly. Never would Basch have asked for her support at a time like this but she gave it unconditionally. Never would he have pleaded for her to sooth him in his hour of need but she did it anyway, murmuring nonsense sentences and constantly saying one thing over and over: "It'll be alright. It'll be alright."

But it wouldn't. How could it be? With everyone he'd ever cared about in the grave but one, the remainder being unobtainable even in his wildest dreams, how could it possibly be alright?

How could it be alright when he had to choose between them, his obligations to the living and to the dead?

His tears dried then and he disentangled himself without grace from her arms. Ashe didn't say a word to him, she didn't move from the spot. She just stood there looking at him, her concern worn on her sleeve for Basch to see. And he was grateful beyond words. Her hands hung loosely at her sides. Looking at them reminded him of that day in Old Archades. The day when he'd realised that his heart now belonged to her.

He couldn't meet her eyes though he felt no shame. Instead, his eyes remained on her hands and he thought of taking hers into his, expressing his gratitude in a way beyond words.

"Might I…" he said, haltingly. He looked into Ashe's eyes, saw her mouth stay resolutely shut as she waited for him to finish. "Might I… have a moment alone?"

Visibly, she didn't change at all. Once she would've demanded thanks. Now she demanded nothing.

"Of course," she told him. "You know where I am if you should need me."

She departed, leaving Basch alone with his brother. He took Noah's hand instead.

"Forgive me."

_3.3 - __Daydreamer_

The next day passed like a whirlwind but she wasn't paying attention. There'd been a celebration the previous night in Rabanastre, one which she was expected to attend, to prove that she was who she said she was. Though none of Raithwall's shards remained to prove her quality, they accepted her nonetheless as their queen and saviour. Ashe absented herself quickly, not being in the mood to celebrate.

She'd returned to the _Strahl_, dry docked in the Rabanastre aerodrome, managing about one pace a minute as her subjects came up to her, sang her praises and tried to shake her hand as if her greatness would rub off on them. She didn't feel very great, simply tired. Eventually, the docent had intervened, allowing Ashe unhindered passage to the airship, for which she was grateful.

The airship was empty, much like it had been on the day she'd tried to steal it in Bhujerba. She'd last seen Vaan and Penelo, the new custodians of the ship, at the celebration dancing round one another so it was little wonder that they weren't here. Larsa had already gone home on the _Alexander_, having a nation to set in order and little time to do it. Basch she had last seen carrying his brother's body to the city morgue and she hadn't seen him since. The Heavy Cruiser _Anima_ hovered over the city still, ready to ferry the body once it was embalmed and anointed.

She sat down in her usual seat in the cockpit, thankful for the silence, allowing her to think clearly for the first time in hours. Her thoughts, as usual, were concerned with Basch. In recent weeks, she'd taken to occasionally daydreaming, wondering about the future and the object of her affections simultaneously.

In her last daydream, she'd envisaged herself marrying him.

She knew that could never happen. She knew her people would never quite believe that Basch wasn't the kingslayer Archadia had made him out to be, even if she went before them and officially pardoned him. But it was a pleasant daydream.

Besides, she didn't want to marry again. In these uncertain times, husbands had an unfortunate habit of dying.

She decided she would tell him though and soon. Now would be an inappropriate time but soon she would tell him. When the dust had settled and when he was on the highroad to recovery, only then would she offer him all that was the best and worst of her. Everything she had, everything she was, she would give it all to him without exemption.

And that was settled, Ashe decided. All she had to do was wait for the right moment.

She supposed she should return to the celebration being held in her honour. But instead, she simply sat on her chair, choosing to daydream how best to tell him.

She thought about it for a long time.

_3.4 -__ Living_

He wondered how they could celebrate. It seemed so bizarre that the rest of the world hadn't stopped and sombrely remembered those who had fallen. Everyone had lost someone during the war, whether they were lost in the constant border skirmishes in Old Nabradia, or slain during the massacre at Nalbina fortress.

Everyone had lost someone yet still the blaring street music permeated the cold, stone walls as if they weren't even there. It reached Basch's ears and without words told him that life continued on, that though the dead would be remembered, this night was for the living.

It was difficult to leave Noah's side. He remembered his home village of Winfell, age six, where he'd been afraid of the dark and the night noises as a child and Noah had always been there to fight the monsters under the bed. He remembered moving to Landisalia, his homeland's capital, age 8, where the noises had been different and metallic in nature but terrified him all the same. And Noah had once again protected him against the unseen enemies within and without. Now, in Rabanastre, now a man fast approaching his fourth decade, it was an odd twist of fate that now Basch acted as his brother's guard against the darkness.

But he supposed Noah didn't need guarding against something he'd never been scared of. In fact, it was quite like him to be the first one to die, to be the one to fight first against the unknown demons beyond.

They were grown now though and neither needed a guard. But Basch knew there was someone else. Someone who might not need him but someone he himself couldn't live without.

He placed a hand on Noah's shoulder. "I will honour your request. Though first there are affairs that must be put in order. I pray you understand."

Noah didn't answer. But corpses made very poor conversationalists.

Basch took his hand away and left, heading towards the land of the living where the drums beat and the people danced, going through the smiling crowds who didn't know his real name. Occasionally women would stop him and ask to dance but he politely declined each time.

She wasn't where she was supposed to be, but then she never was. The raised platform where a spry, middle-aged noblewoman called Lady Gelmeria, deputy head of the Small Council, had announced to all and sundry that Princess Ashelia did yet live was empty. Ashe had been there too at the time, shaking hands with the great and the good but Basch hadn't stayed long enough to hear her talk to the people.

To find her, he would have to rely on his instincts and the knowledge of Ashe's movements he had amassed over the course of the journey. Unusually for a member of the royal family, Ashe had always seemed to be disconcerted by large crowds, particularly when she was in the limelight. Though she would take to the stage, he doubted that she would remain at the celebration.

That narrowed the list of possible places down by a considerable margin, down to only two. It was doubtful that Ashe would willingly choose to descend into the Garamsythe Waterway for some peace and quiet, leaving only one other place.

Fairly confident in which direction to choose, Basch made off with purposeful strides towards Hanger 13 of the Rabanastre aerodrome.

000000

He thought for a moment he might've missed his guess. There was no clear indication that anyone had boarded the Strahl, the lights of the hanger were off and the entrance to the ship itself was closed. All the same, Basch decided that since he was there, there was no sense in not eliminating it as a potential place that Ashe might be hiding. So he stepped forward and fumbled in the semi-light for the switch which opened the hatch.

Finally finding it, the stair collapsed neatly to the ground beside him. Inside, the dim emergency lighting was on, something which helped Basch to narrowly avoid tripping quite heavily over the staircase. As he climbed the stairs, he thought he heard someone stirring inside though couldn't be certain.

When he emerged in the fuselage, he spotted an arm on the bridge dangling loosely from one of the chairs, the bangle on the wrist and the skin tone instantly recognisable even in a state of semi-darkness.

He felt better for knowing that she was here after all, a feeling that would've been inexplicable two months ago, but quite rational in its own irrational way now. They were alone on the _Strahl_, all alone.

That made him nervous, for he feared he would be unable to control himself, just as he hadn't been able to control his grief earlier. He knew that he should go.

But he found himself calling, "Your Majesty," anyway.

_3.5 -__ Almost_

"Your Majesty."

The person calling her startled her out of her daydream, where Ondore had been walking down the aisle to give her away to a startling handsome Basch, with armour as polished as mirror glass and a smile as bright as the sun. So absorbed had Ashe been in the daydream that she wasn't even sure of the sex of the person who called for her. But she was annoyed that her peace had been disturbed and turned around to give them a piece of her mind.

Her remonstrance died on her tongue. For there standing in the passage was the man she'd just been imagining.

"Oh," was all she could say and for a moment all she could do was stare.

"Am I disturbing you, Ashelia? If so I can-"

"No!" She said, finally realizing that she'd been staring for a while. She gave him an uncomfortable smile and hoped he hadn't noticed while simultaneously wishing he had. She waved to his usual chair. "Please, sit with me a while."

He did so, sitting in the chair across from her. She moved forward and took his hand between both of hers. "How do you feel?"

"Better, my lady, but the wound will take many a day to heal."

Ashe nodded. "I understand." And she did. Basch was strong. He would recover in his own time. Sitting there with him like this, she felt tempted to spill her guts to him but refrained. The moment was still not right. "Basch, I have a request I would ask of you," she found herself saying before she knew it.

"But name it, my lady, and it shall be done."

"_Kiss me,"_ she was tempted to say but didn't. It just seemed to be getting harder and harder to manage her self restraint. But she didn't miss Basch's quick glance at her lips, and she feared for a moment that she had given voice to her desires. Though she hadn't, she was intrigued by the minute glance. Suddenly, the temperature in the cockpit seemed to jump a few dozen degrees and beneath her clothes, her skin burned. It was so difficult, being this close to him, touching him but not _touching_ him. So, so difficult.

"Ashelia?" Basch whispered, and Ashe couldn't help but pretend to notice the notes of desire he put into those four syllables. It was as though her name had been given her just so Basch could pronounce it with so much emotion. But she had to catch hold of herself. She'd forgotten that she hadn't told him what she wanted of him, apart from his heart.

She wanted to ask him to stay in Rabanastre, to resume the role he had once held and damn what her people thought about it. But his touch was electrifying, when his fingers brushed the palm of her hand it sent shivers down her spine. Ashe simply didn't trust herself. Not now, this wasn't the right moment. "Would you leave me to think for a while?"

The question killed the mood faster than an arrow through the neck. Basch looked her in the eyes momentarily, his face unchanged by her request. "Certainly, Ashelia. If you have need of me, I shall not be far." He took his hand away and before she knew it, he was heading for the door.

This wasn't the way Ashe had planned this. She hadn't meant to phrase her question in quite such a manner and she regretted it the moment he got up to leave. What on Ivalice had compelled her to say that? But obedient as ever, he was doing what he thought she wanted. He paid her a last glance just as he made to leave the bridge, and once again looked down at her lips. Then he was on his way.

Despite her mortification, Ashe knew that this second glance couldn't be a coincidence. Could it be that… that?

Did he feel for her what she felt for him?

Until now, she hadn't even considered that was possible. But then when she thought on it, there were a plethora of clues to the contrary. His repeated skirt offerings, his protectiveness, his Freudian slip in Nalbina, the way he'd taken her hand in Old Archades, his subtle glances… she had been so blind.

Suddenly it seemed like the right moment.

"Basch, wait," she demanded, jumping out of her chair and catching his wrist before he got to the stairs. He stopped in his tracks, though whether it was the touch or her words that stilled him, she couldn't guess. "Don't go."

He turned around slowly and didn't look her in the eye when he did. They were close now, almost as close as they had been a few hours before but the circumstances were a world away from one another. A different tension was in the air, a different heat pervaded her senses.

Not quite sure what to do next, Ashe stood there within easy reaching distance of the man who'd been constantly invading her daydreams. She quickly tried to think of something witty to say, to try and impress him but nothing came to mind. Well to hell with thinking then, she thought.

Like that day in Old Archades, Ashe took his hand in her own. His skin was cold on hers, tough and unyielding but she didn't care. To her, there was nothing in the world that felt so right.

Then she raised his hand a little. Though she didn't realize it, she looked like a female mirror image of Al-Cid at that moment. She took his hand, bowing slightly and pressed her lips to the skin.

The differences between her method and Al-Cid's were many. Where he had been smooth and practiced in his motions, she almost managed to headbutt Basch's arm. When he'd straightened, he'd been completely at ease, giving his little bird the customary offering of sunglasses. When Ashe straightened, she met Basch's eye uneasily and offered him a smile that was supposed to be easy and carefree. Instead, it felt strained and fake.

She was so concerned with her own inadequacies that Ashe was taken completely by surprise when she found her back to the wall, the small amount of bare skin rising in goosepimples because of the coldness of the steel wall on her back. But she could feel the hairs on her arms and legs stand up too. That might've been more to do with the fact that Basch's face was so close to hers, so very, very close.

"Oh," was all she was capable of saying.

They stood staring at each other, the features of Basch's face blurry and contorted at such close range but still beautiful all the same. Then she tilted her head to the right, their noses slid past each other, their lips almost met.

Then they heard the sound of the hanger doors opening.

_3.6 - __Emulation_

"Remind me why we're here when we could be enjoying the party again?" Penelo asked.

"Because I forgot to lock the _Strahl_," Vaan muttered, coming up with the first excuse he could think of as they entered the hangar.

"Wow you even managed to leave the door wide open," Penelo gestured to the flight of stairs allowing easy entry into the airship. "Are you sure you're cut out to be a sky pirate? I thought they always said the first rule about being a sky pirate was that you shouldn't leave open invitations for _you_ to get robbed."

Vaan considered the stairs, wondering why the _Strahl_ was open. He was sure he'd closed up the ship before leaving it a few hours ago. But he didn't bother telling Penelo that. She probably wouldn't believe him, since she had a nose that could smell bullshit from ten paces.

But then he heard something moving around inside the ship. Turning to Penelo, he saw that she'd heard it to.

"When Balthier comes back, he'll kill you for getting his airship stolen you know," Penelo told him in a singsong, I-told-you-so voice.

Vaan didn't answer. Instead he just ran to the _Strahl_ and up the stairs. As he got to the top, clear voices met his ears.

"So you're basically saying that if I were to marry again, that it would be best if I chose someone from Rozarria?"

"Aye. Likely, it is the best potential alliance Dalmasca could have."

"Yes, though if Al-Cid is anything to go by, Rozarrian men are somewhat… polygamous."

"I wouldn't know anything about that… good evening Vaan."

Vaan looked at the scene before him. Basch and Ashe were sat in the cockpit, sitting opposite each other and in close proximity. They looked a bit red in the face but he supposed it was very warm out this evening.

"Hi guys," Vaan said, not quite sure what he should say. He'd figured out the tensions growing between the two over the last few days, or rather since Penelo had added certainty onto his initial suspicions. It all looked quite innocent to him though. "What're you talking about?"

"Basch is advising me on future allegiances Dalmasca should make," Ashe informed him quickly. "Is Penelo not with you?"

"I'm here," she said, following up the stairs. She took one look at the two in the cockpit, and then took Vaan's hand. "Come on. The_ Strahl's_ safe. Let's get back to this party."

"But…" Penelo gave him one of those significant looks which Vaan recognised as a cue to stop talking and just do as she said. "Right, well see you guys later."

Just before they left, Vaan caught Penelo winking in Ashe's general direction. Then it suddenly hit him. So he _was_ right. But before he could get a second look, he was already being dragged down the stairs. At a pace halfway between walking and running, she led him out of the hangar, not daring to say a word.

"Did you see their faces?" Penelo asked, once they were back in the aerodrome, the hangar door safely closed behind them. "I can guess what they were up to."

"Would you like to show me?" Vaan asked, offering his hand to her and smiling at her.

Penelo took the hand and seemed to take it gladly. "I'd be happy to."

_3.7 - Nerves_

Ashe hadn't made much of an effort to conceal her disappointment, but, in the whirlwind of events that followed over the next few days, it was always tucked to the back of her mind anyway. In all honesty, she hadn't expected to be so busy. But since the Small Council had officially welcomed her back to reside in the royal palace, her daylight hours had become consumed by the state and nothing but the state.

Dalmasca had carried on without her for two years. Just because she had returned from the dead didn't mean it had any intention of slowing down for her benefit. After the Small Council had officially accepted her as queen (with Archadian approval, courtesy of a letter left by Larsa), it had begun there and then. They'd discussed trade agreements with her, border relations, lords of the land keen to swear fealty to her and those who were not, barely pausing to make sure she understood. They sought her opinion on the economy, the state of the military, controversial laws concerning basic civil liberties; to all of which she pretended to look like she knew what she was talking about.

Ashe prayed that she'd be able to pick it up as she went along.

Her evenings were no less cluttered and full of appointments. Grand feasts were held in her honour all over Rabanastre which she was expected to attend. The moment she set foot through the doors of manse almost as great as her own palace, sycophants descended on her, trying their damnedest to win her favour. She would smile and nod, eat their food and drink their wine and pretend that she didn't miss the simplicity of her past life or the company of her friends.

…Or the company of Basch.

At night, she would lie beneath the covers in the bedroom she'd once occupied in days long past, and stare at the velvet canopy, thinking. Always she thought about the same thing. They'd been so close to one another, their lips so close they could each feel the other's breath. And then they'd both panicked at the sound of others and broken apart, talking about state matters for the audience. It was fitting, she supposed, that she had discussed marriage with Basch.

After that, he hadn't tried to kiss her again and she hadn't pushed him to do so. Sometimes, Ashe would lie there and wish she had, so she would know what it felt like to kiss him rather than having to rely on her imagination alone. Practically speaking, she supposed it would be like how she used to kiss Rasler, no different except for the person whose arms she was in. But she didn't know for certain.

She did know that her feelings weren't one-sided though and that took the edge off her disappointment. All the same, she found herself missing him, wishing, simply wishing.

It was five days and four nights before she sent for him. Blaming it on her hectic schedule, Ashe couldn't quite deny that the reason it had taken so long was that she was… nervous. She hated the word, right down to its socks, but that didn't stop her from being so all the same. But, in the time they'd sent apart, it had given them time to think. There was no way of knowing what Basch thought on the matter, though she could guess. She prepared for the positive and the negative, praying it wouldn't be the latter but ready for it if it came.

But there was no doubt in her mind whatsoever. She wanted this. She wanted it on the _Strahl_ and she wanted it now, with all that came with it, the good and the bad.

To be ready for this intimate audience, Ashe had had to refuse a prominent Rabanastran lord's invitation to a banquet in her honour. The lord had been offended but she didn't care; it was worth it. Though the upcoming visit worried her a little, she hadn't agonised over her choice of attire, a habit forced upon her by two years in the wilderness, both literal and political. She'd chosen a simple white blouse and with it, more to humour Basch than anything else, she'd donned the white skirt she'd not returned to him after Tchita.

She only hoped he saw the funny side.

Pacing like a father waiting for his firstborn to arrive, Ashe walked in a straight line, up and down, up and down, putting all her thought into the sound of her bare feet sinking into the carpet. If she thought about anything else, Ashe knew it would only lead back to this meeting. Her footsteps reminded her of nothing but footsteps.

_Knock knock_

She looked up to the door, ending her pacing and struggling to find her voice.

"Come in."

_3.8 - Regrets_

In all his thirty-seven years, Basch had felt the pangs of regret quite often. He'd felt them when Landis fell and he felt them when he ran away, unable to do anything for his homeland. In the Nalbina Dungeons, regret and misery had been his closest companions. He'd thought about Raminas, Rasler, Reks and Ashe, how to some degree he felt responsible for their respective deaths or, in the latter case, her fake suicide. Fleeing the Bahamut, he regretted not trying to reconcile with his brother sooner before the gods had claimed him as their own.

He regretted not taking the opportunity to kiss Ashelia when he had the chance.

In some way, he felt he'd atoned most of his regret through guarding her, taking wounds intended for her, staring into the jaws of death for her. By guarding her, Raminas and Rasler would be pleased, his deeds absolving his regrets over Landis and Dalmasca. But they would be turning in their graves if they saw what happened on the _Strahl_ five days ago.

But another part of him said that Raminas and Rasler would want her to be happy, to live and enjoy life where they could not. Then when he delved deeper into it, he wondered if there was any other person better suited to the task.

That wasn't for him to decide though.

Apprehension gnawed at his insides as he made his way to her rooms. Tonight, no matter what she wanted to say to him, Basch had to have the first word. He'd failed to tell her that he intended to honour his brother's wish, so caught up in the maelstrom of emotions he had been. But it wasn't fair to simply not tell her and he wouldn't dream of going without saying goodbye. His mother would never speak to him again in the afterlife. It was just bad manners, something she had deplored.

So he made his way there, each step falling heavy as he considered just how he was going to break the news. If only he knew what Ashe was going to tell him. For all Basch knew, she had summoned him to tell him that what happened had been a mistake never to be mentioned again. But in his heart, he doubted that that was so. He'd seen the look in her eyes that night on the _Strahl_. What he had seen had been nothing but genuine.

He suddenly found himself outside her door. So consumed by his thoughts he'd been, that Basch hadn't even realised in which direction he was walking. Well there was no sense in beating about the bush. He raised his hand.

_Knock knock._

From within, he heard the voice that sent him somewhat weak at the knees.

"Come in."

_3.9 - Tea_

Her heart went aflutter the moment she saw him standing there, his hands held awkwardly at his sides. A series of different thoughts and urges went through her mind when she saw him there and unable to choose which one to act on, she said and did nothing. Instead, Ashe took the moment to simply observe him; much in the same manner she would observe a painting, a masterpiece, appreciative.

It didn't surprise her that she could find the telltale signs of discomfort that radiated off Basch. The way he held her eyes belied confidence though she also caught how he held himself, how his hands fidgeted a little, how his chin was set. The moment extended on and on and Ashe became sure she wasn't the only one making an analysis, trying to decide where to take their first step through the field of landmines. In the end, she decided it would be best simply to play hostess.

"Come in, Basch. Sit with me."

There was a small three piece suite in her room, purposely put there for intimate audiences such as this. She sat down on the small sofa, placing one hand on her lap and the other on the empty seat beside her. Basch seemed to take a moment to come to his senses and she realized that he was still staring at her. To be more precise, he was staring at her legs, or to be more precise still, what she was wearing over them. He smiled.

"You're wearing it after all this time," he said.

"So it would seem." The moment she said it, she cursed herself. Her tone had been heavy and sarcastic, just the wrong sort of way she imagined to speak to the man of her dreams. She smiled in discomfort. "I wore it for you." Hoping that would negate her previous rudeness, Ashe waited for a reaction.

"I am honoured, Ashelia."

Her heart skipped a beat when he said her name. "…I…" Damn it all but she still couldn't think what to say.

Basch finally closed the door, the latch making a satisfying click. Here, they were alone and here, they had their own little world where possibilities abounded. Here, she could leap off the sofa and kiss the man like she should've done five days previously and no-one would be here to remonstrate with her. Getting up, she closed the curtains, despite it being only three in the afternoon. The room was dimmed, though enough light managed to permeate the thin material of the veils to allow Ashe to see clearly.

When she turned around, she found Basch seated in one of the armchairs, his chin resting on the bridge made by his interlocked fingers. Once again, he was watching her and the thought made her shiver. But for the pleasure she took, came pangs of disappointment. The look on his face was still troubled and he'd chosen to sit in one of the armchairs. Ashe shrugged it off. He was probably just as nervous as she was.

"Would you like some tea?" Ashe asked as she made for the sofa again.

"My thanks but nay. I've never taken to tea."

Ashe raised her eyebrow at that. Considering the city's position on the tea road, stretching from the Ambervale of Rozzaria all the way to Archades and beyond, almost everyone took tea in Rabanastre. "You don't mind if I do, do you?"

"Not at all, Ashelia."

It was a strange thing. Though their nerves both seemed to be getting the better of them, Ashe marvelled at how easy it was to play her part in this domestic scene. Pouring the tea into its cup, Ashe tried to concentrate on not spilling it over the surface of the table. Though neither of them said anything, Ashe could feel the weight of Basch's stare on her. With a heavy clunk, she set down the teapot and picked up the cup by the saucer. The cup rattled and the tea within rippled, as though someone had dropped a tiny stone into it. Some of the tea spilled over the side into the saucer.

It amazed her how she'd stared into the jaws of death multiple times over the last two years and barely felt a tremor. Now, something as simple as pouring tea in his presence made her tremble. To silence the rattling, she picked up the cup and took her first sip, barely managing to swallow the scolding beverage.

"Basch…" she said, setting down the cup. The rattling began again. "I… that is…"

As her efforts to start the conversation petered out into nothing, Basch for the first time in the meeting took the initiative.

"Ashelia, there is… somewhat I must tell you."

Ashe put the cup and saucer down, terrified she'd drop it. "Yes?" But he didn't say anything more. "You can tell me anything, Basch. I shan't overreact."

"Very well. Before he died, my brother entrusted me with a charge." When he paused, Ashe reached for the cup of tea again, her mouth suddenly dry. "Noah asked that I should take his place… to act as Lord Larsa's protector."

The sound of breaking crockery reached Ashe's ears before she even realised she dropped the cup, saucer and all. Her fingers felt numb when she moved them. Her trembling had stopped at last.

"You… you are to go to Archades then?"

"Aye."

Ashe closed her eyes to help collect her thoughts. Despite the shut door, the closed curtains, the real world had still managed to invade their own. But she wasn't heartbroken like she'd expected to be. The numbness of surprise had already worn off and she felt the love in her heart grow, despite the news.

They did say that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Then she suddenly felt daring and stood up. "When must you go?"

"On the morrow," he replied with reluctance.

"In that case," she said, moving towards Basch and sitting down on his knee, "we must make best use of the time allotted to us."

And she kissed him then and all was right with the world.

_3.__10 – Wish_

"_Watch for me on the northern road."_

It was late and she was tired but now was not the time for resting. She stood upon her balcony, ignoring the gargantuan shadow that was the Bahamut and focused her eyes on the north-east. For twenty minutes she had stood here, ignorant of the wind's bitter chill. The breeze caught at her silken shawl, trying to tear if from between her arms but her grip was strong. She held on.

"_Look for me as I come from the south."_

They say in Landis that if you wished hard enough, bent all your thought to a special someone, they would hear no matter how far away they were and return before the coming of the full moon if their bond was true. They call this a wonderwish, she calls it a flight of fancy, but she wishes all the same, ever and always for the same thing.

The sky is moonless this night.

She both knows and doesn't know that in the north-east, where her eyes are so intently staring, the one she wishes for is watching the southern road and looking beyond, making the same wish.

The woman sighs and returns to the warmth of her fireside, closing the door of glass behind her.

_Author Note:_ And that's it. A big thank you to everyone who took the time out of their lives to read and/or review this. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.


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